Timothy Wangusa
Our own old folk
Upon this mountain were you born
To pour wisdom from the pen
As you shape Africa's theme
To reveal Africa's new brood
A million salutations you deserve
For defining our own Pattern of dust
As we climb this mountain
On which we hope to touch heaven
As we go through this maturation
Which you taught us
With your glasses on
Like your own Sebi
Whom made me his own Plato
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